


Chains of Command

by omegaxibir



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha!Gabriel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Blindfolds, Cock Warming, Conditioning, Dirty Talk, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gags, Humiliation, M/M, Medical Kink, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega!Jack, Power Dynamics, Power Exchange, Power Imbalance, Scent Kink, Small Penis, Sort of? - Freeform, Spreader Bars, Watersports, boot licking, i don't know how to tag it but omega jack fucks omega mccree, omega!mccree, omegas with vaginas, piss drinking, really i don't know how to properly tag this shit, small cock humiliation, so if that's not your jam steer clear, vaguely sexual bathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-18 00:32:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14201056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omegaxibir/pseuds/omegaxibir
Summary: “Good boy,” he repeats, pulling in a deep breath to center himself. “See? Even childish bitches can learn their place.”------Gabriel Reyes runs a program breaking down problem omegas, with Jack Morrison, a former 'problem' omega, as his right hand man. When they're brought Jesse McCree, they utilize somewhat unconventional tactics to show him his place in the pecking order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tiny primer on my headcanons around a/b/o dynamics: omegas have vaginas, and no 'actual' penis - rather, they have a clitoris that has grown beyond typical sizes (think metoidioplasty) but are still not really comparable to the size of a penis. Anyway, because of this, lots of AFAB terms like pussy/cunt/clit are used here, so if that makes you uncomfortable, I'd avoid this fic. 
> 
> Probably not doing more chapters to this but I can possibly be persuaded? We'll see.

“You’re not special. I don’t care what your mom and dad told you growing up - everyone’s got a place, and you’re not exempt from staying in yours.”

Jack keeps his gaze down and trained on stained concrete and his own shiny black boots. It’s a speech he’s heard a dozen and one times, and he has to admit it’s a good one. It gets the job done when nothing else does. Hadn’t worked for  _him_ , of course - he had taken much more training than Gabriel’s usual charges - but he still remembers the moment he first heard it, down on his knees and stark naked, looking defiantly up at the man who he would come to embrace as alpha.

Gabriel steps forward, and Jack chances a look up: the new boy - what was his name, Jesse? - is sat lazily back on his haunches, unable to look less interested if his life depended on it. The omega stares at Gabe with half-lidded eyes, before he gives an over-dramatic and loud yawn. There’s a moment of brief but heavy tension where the kid pushes and prods and tests, and Gabriel decides what to do about it.

“Oh yeah, boss? Real original philosophy you got there. What exactly is my place?”

“Warm me up.” Gabriel ignores his combative words completely, the order coming sharp as a blade, each word carefully enunciated and dripping smugness.

The drawled response, in turn, is less than invigorating: “Huh?”

Jack’s lips twitch in amusement, but he snaps his gaze back down to his boots when he hears the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled. The new boy may not know yet, but oh, he will.

“My cock is getting cold. Warm it up.”

“You want me to suck your cock?”

“Did I fucking say that? Your cock may be small, but your brain isn’t, so use it.”

The tension plateaus into an unsatisfying silence as they navigate their standoff. Jesse shifts further back onto his hairy thighs, but doesn’t seem intent on doing as he’s told. Once, that had been Jack, but now he wouldn’t dream of it.

They always learned, in time.

“Big fat mouth like that, and you don’t know what to do? All right. I can lead by example. We teach all kinds here, Jesse. You’ll fall into your place, just like all the others.” Even across the room, Jack can hear the faint squeak of his leather gloves as Gabriel snaps his fingers. “Jack. Warm me up.”

“Yes, sir.” He’s moving before he has finished speaking, mouth salivating at the prospect of what he considers one of the finer treats in life. Gabriel stands sidelong in front of Jesse, allowing him a nice, good view of the dark cock that is about to take over his fucking life; Jack sinks to his knees in front of him, and from the corner of his eye notices a look of vague confusion.

“He’s an omega? Or are you such a big-shot that you’re bending alphas over your fucking knee?” Jesse asks scathingly, lip curling in obvious distaste.

It’s almost affirming to hear it, gives him a burst of pride in his chest, and he has to smother a smile. Gabriel reaches down, leather-clad fingers of one hand tugging at Jack’s blonde hair, the other cupping his chin to lift it to the heavens. There’s a fondness buried deep in those eyes, but Gabriel hides it from Jesse; right now, his reputation as an alpha means more than his love for Jack.

“What, you noseblind too? Can’t you smell his cunt? I can smell it from across the room.” A small flush colors Jack’s cheeks, and he can’t decide if it’s from some vague embarrassment, or arousal. “No, Jackie here is the hardest omega I’ve ever had to break. Now look at him. He lives to serve. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

As he speaks, Jack opens his mouth, covering his teeth with his lips and carefully taking the whole of Gabriel’s fat cock into it. It lays heavy on his tongue, and he can taste sour sweat and musk, a hint of piss. He doesn’t hollow his cheeks, doesn’t slide his tongue across his shaft, doesn’t suckle at the ruddy foreskin; it sits there, slowly warming in the hot, wet heat of his mouth. A perfect feeling of relaxation - for both Gabriel and Jack - permeates them, and Jack lets his eyes close.

A moment later he hears, rather than sees, Jesse spit onto the ground, a fat glob of saliva landing right in front of Gabriel’s boots. His cock twitches in Jack’s mouth, the only hint that betrays Gabe’s arousal at Jesse’s refusal to roll the fuck over.

“Lick it up.”

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t give orders twice.”

“Fuck you.”

Gabriel is surprisingly graceful when he leans over Jack’s bowed head to grab Jesse’s greasy hair, yanking him cruelly forward. Surprised and thrown off balance, Jesse falls forward, hissing as his weight is supported by naught but Gabriel’s hand.

And then he lets go.

There’s a moment where Jesse scrabbles to keep his balance and stay upright ... and then a thud as he hits the ground face-first.

Jack doesn’t even blink.

“Stay down there for a while. Think about what a childish little bitch you’re being.” He knows he won’t, though, so he makes sure of it: he raises one boot enough to plant it against Jesse’s skull, anchoring him there through force. The kid chooses - wisely - to stay still, cheek trapped against the floor, breathing hard and trying to hide the fact.

Jesse realizes suddenly how fragile he is. How just a fraction of Gabriel’s weight pushed in the right place would crack his fucking skull and spill grey matter all over the floor. His life - pathetic as it is right now - is utterly in Gabriel’s hands. And Gabriel, for all that he is, is being a  _merciful_ god.

Gabriel luxuriates in that feeling of power, one hand gently stroking Jack’s skull while his foot threatens death for Jesse’s, the perfect counterpoint. Sparks run the length of his spine, and his cock fattens perceptibly in Jack’s mouth, forcing his spit-stained lips to stretch wider around it.

“Good boy,” he breathes, and it’s not clear who he’s talking to. “Now, are you going to lick up your mess, omega?”

There’s no sass this time. No hurled insults. Yet still, for a moment, it’s unclear whether he will actually obey. Gabriel waits patiently, half-lidded eyes watching the wheels turn in Jesse’s head. And then a fat pink tongue pokes out, writhing against the concrete, and Gabriel allows himself to smile. “There you go. Lick it up for me.” He doesn’t let up the pressure on his head, and it means Jesse has to awkwardly squirm along the floor, moving his head a little at a time until his tongue makes contact with the rapidly-cooling glob of spit. His nose wrinkles in distaste, but he gives long swipes of his tongue until the whole damn thing is gone, nothing but a memory of saliva on his lips now.

“Good boy,” he repeats, pulling in a deep breath to center himself. “See? Even childish bitches can learn their place.”

  


\--//--

  


“I’m going to take a guess.” He squats down in front of Jesse, who is stripped bare and defiantly refusing to play _demure little omega_. “You’ve never taken a knot, huh?”

“I’m too good for an alpha knot. Destined for better things,” he replies lazily, leaned back against the wall and legs comfortably spread; between them a fat cunt is just visible, half-covered by dark pubic hair. Although his body language screams _receptive_ , Gabriel already knows if he tries to get closer he’s likely to get kicked in the face.

“Mm. Too good for an alpha, huh? So who  _do_ you fuck?”

“Betas. They got more sense than you fuckers, thinking with nothing but your cock. A better fuck than someone like you could begin to imagine, too.” That’s enough to get Gabriel to laugh, and Jesse makes the mistake of flashing a smug grin.

Before Jesse can quite register what’s happening, Gabriel has grabbed him by the ankles, yanking him forward far enough that Jesse’s head glances off the floor and makes him howl. He shifts to sit across Jesse’s knees, pinning his legs there and providing an uncomfortable amount of pressure on the delicate joints. Jesse starts to sit up, but Gabriel points one gloved finger at him and snaps, “Stay,” and he does as he’s told, instinctively freezing up. He watches with thinly veiled anger and something approaching fear as Gabe reaches for his genitals, two fingers parting the lips of his pussy.

As soon as he does, the smell of him is everywhere - even Jack, sat back in the corner, has a moment of lust at the scent of sex and pussy and pheromones. A lesser alpha might have lost it, falling to the instinctual desire to  _fuck, knot, breed_ the bitch, but Gabriel doesn’t even flinch. His fingers run slowly down the length of his slit, from the fat clit poking out between his labia, down to the hole of his cunt, just beginning to drip juices in preparation for what’s to come.

“Even for an omega, your cock is tiny,” Gabriel says impartially, pinching his clitoris between two fingers and leaning in to examine it. The head peeks out from its hood, and he rubs his thumb over it to test the reaction, chuckling when he feels Jesse’s legs spasm under him. “What, barely even an inch, huh? Jack, come look at this.”

It takes everything he has not to leap out of his chair; his strides are carefully measured, and he squats down beside him, leaning in to squint at Jesse’s rosy-pink pussy. A low laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head, looking between Jesse and Gabriel as if suspecting some joke. “Jesus. How do you get anything worthwhile out of a cock that small?” The question is genuine and directed at Jesse, who is flushed bright red in indignation and anger.

“Bullshit. I’m average. That’s average.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jack says, petting his flank comfortingly. “You haven’t been with any other omegas, have you? That’s why betas like you. You make them feel better about themselves. With a penis like that, it’s hard not to feel good about myself in comparison.”

“Bullshit,” He repeats, now squirming to try and force Gabriel off of him.

Gabe shakes his head, acquiescing and letting go of him, letting him retreat back against the wall once more. “Jack, show him your cock. Poor kid doesn’t know any better.”

Obedient as a dog, Jack shifts onto his knees and unbuckles his belt, finangling with buttons and zippers until he can pull his fatigues down. He stops at the mid-thigh, just enough to show himself off. Even from several feet away, Jesse can see his clitoris poking out nearly two inches from between his pussy lips. Gabriel reaches around his hips, fingers parting his cunt to afford Jesse a better look. “Come look, omega. Makes your tiny prick look like nothing, huh?” Jesse stares silently at it, sees it twitch when Gabe’s fingers graze it; a string of slick drips from Jack’s pussy. He hates him. Hates his cock, hates his obedience, hates that even the smell of him makes Jesse want him.

“Nothing to say to that? That’s what I thought.” He slaps Jack’s ass lightly, but stops him as he goes to pull his pants back up. “Did I say you were done, omega?” Jack instantly goes still, looking up at Gabriel for orders. “You heard the kid, he thinks he’s too good for an alpha, but better than omegas. Thinks he’s in a league of his fucking own, don’t you kid? Thing is, you got it all backwards. You’re not good enough for an alpha yet. Not by a long shot. If I fucked you now, you’d be worse than just jerking myself off. No way in hell you’re getting my knot yet. But honestly? You’re beneath omegas, too. With a cock like that? Jesus. You think you’re on the same level as Jack? Kid, you’re not even in the same fucking stratosphere.”

“Aw, fuck, I’m not even a good omega? Whatever am I gonna do now? Had my whole life planned around that, man.” Jesse rolls his eyes and sticks his legs out again, feeling confident in the fact that now, unable to be threatened with knotting, he’s safe.

“Don’t worry. We’re gonna fix that. We’re gonna fix it.” Gabriel stares him down, uncomfortably intense; Jack glances between the two of them, for once at a loss as to where this is going. “Get on your knees, Jesse. Not gonna hurt you, but if you disobey me, you bet your ass I will.”

For a moment he seems to weigh the pros and cons of doing as he’s told, before deciding that whatever comes next, he can take it in stride. Omegas can be stronger than alphas, he tells himself. No - we  _are_ stronger than alphas. He keeps that in mind as he slowly moves to his hands and knees, aware of how much of him is on display. He sees Gabe’s eyes wander to his ass, and he hopes he’s lusting, hopes he’s having to fight himself not to go after him - hopes it hurts him deep in his balls, that they _ache_ for wanting him. That is where his power is, he realizes. Gabriel might have him trapped here, but his pussy, his ass, holds more power over Gabriel than the other way around.

“We’ll see how you like being bitch to an omega, instead. Go mount him, Jack.”

Jack looks at Gabriel curiously, not entirely sure what he means. He’s offered nothing but an arched eyebrow and a gesture of his chin - a silent command to  _get in place_. Jack sheds his fatigues in their entirety, but hesitates a moment before he takes off his tight-fitting shirt; Gabriel gives a nod to allow it.

Even stripped naked, it almost comes as a surprise to see the tight cunt between his legs. Jack stands just as tall as any alpha, with more muscle tone than most; his biceps and thighs bulge, a hint of abs across his stomach. Like Jesse, he is covered in hair, trapping their sweat and scents close to the skin. His strides toward Jesse are self-assured, the gait of a man who knows himself and his own power. When he kneels behind Jesse’s presented ass, he grabs at him with hands that might have been indistinguishable from an alpha.

Jesse can suppress the shudder, but he can’t stop the pussy juices dripping down his thighs.

“Move your hips. Part your knees. Come on, you’ve been fucked by  _someone_  at least, you know the routine. Don’t make _me_  move you.” Even as he speaks, Gabriel is pulling his own fat cock out of his pants, lazily playing with the foreskin as he eases himself to a full erection. “Atta boy. There you go,” He murmurs, watching as Jesse slowly and pseudo-reluctantly cants his hips and arches his back, making his cunt lips naturally open up.

This isn’t going to go anywhere, he tells himself. How can an omega - even one with such a big clitoris as Jack - fuck someone? He’ll act like it, go through the motions, and maybe he’ll get off - maybe  _I_ will - but nothing more.

He doesn’t realize he’s wrong until that hard, fat clit pokes between his labia and rubs against his hole. It takes Jack some maneuvering, to be sure, his own thighs forced between Jesse’s, hips angled upwards, but as soon as Jack is in this position, he knows he can make it work.

“What the fuck is-” Jesse breaks off, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the beat his heart is hammering against his chest. “Is this supposed to fucking teach me? His clit might be big, but my dildos are bigger. This isn’t gonna prepare me for shit.”

Gabriel strokes his cock, smirking as Jesse lifts his head to look him in the eye; he watches his gaze fall to the veiny cock in his hand and then lift back up, hiding arousal with an angry challenge. “Not supposed to. You think you’re too good for alphas, right? Then we’ve gotta show you exactly where you belong in the food chain.”

He watches Jack snap his hips forward and groan, his head falling backward as he learns of a new ecstasy, pretending for all he’s worth that he is an  _alpha_. The warm, wet channel of Jesse’s cunt hugs Jack’s clit tightly - what little he could force in - his body instinctively trying to milk it dry. He can’t pull out, can’t thrust, but Jack grinds against him, one hand moving between them to part his own dripping pussy and allow for more of his own fat cock to ease out.

For Jack, it’s good - it’s heaven, it’s a form of fulfillment he’s never known before.

For Jesse, it’s a humiliation - one that he wants to relive every day for the rest of his fucking life.

“You? You’re at the very, very bottom of the food chain, sweetheart. Now tell me: how does it feel?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack helps prepare Jesse for an omega showing, and then Jesse suffers the showing itself. In the end, though, who is really suffering..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i said last time it wasn't really going to include any form of plot? yeah i lied because i'm incapable of giving context-free porn. still, 99% of this is intimately sexual with plot-like stuff on the sides. also this is way longer than i intended and i really didn't mean for it to turn into maximilien/jesse but here we are. i love comments, so let me know what folks liked and didn't like. may or may not do more, depends on whether i get inspiration for another scene or not. writing this scene felt like edging myself irl
> 
> (also i haven't really beta'd this so it might get some minor edits in the future to smooth out wordings and stuff, but yall probably don't care about that :P )

He never thought he’d consider hot water a blessing, but here he is: he sinks down until his ass hits the bottom of the tub, giving an exultant groan as the steaming water warms his flesh down to the bone. When he leans back, water slops over the edge of the stainless steel rim, lapping at his ears and armpits.  
To the side, Jack sits on a folding metal chair, thoroughly unimpressed. He crosses his legs, watching him disinterestedly.

“Gabriel said you had ten minutes to clean up. Don’t forget that.”

“Or what? He got a timer in there, just waitin’ for it to buzz so he can come beat my ass? Nah. I’ll take my time, or I won’t clean myself at all,” Jesse quips, never once opening his eyes.

Jack stares at him for a long moment, taking in hair so greasy it’s stringy, nose twitching at the pungent smell of armpits and stale musk. Excited as he’d been for a bath, Jack is willing to bet he’d be just as happy maintaining such a sloppy appearance. Instead of chiding him, he just grunts, tapping his foot against the tile floor.

Jesse stays just where he is, not so much as twitching, much less feeling around for soap. Brawny legs have spread wide, toes floating to the top of the water, the dark peaks of his nipples exposed to the criminally cold air. Jack watches as his skin begins to flush from the water, boiling him into peak undertones to his dark complexion.

Three minutes pass, and then four, and then eight, and Jack begins to wonder if he has fallen asleep, and thinks about kicking the side of the tub to wake him. He’s still in the process of weighing pros and cons - he hates arguing with the little fucker - when the omega finally sits up, looking around.

“Soap.”

He hasn’t worked and trained as hard as he has, for as long as he has, to be given one-word orders by a shitty little mongrel of an omega. Thin lips purse, and Jack all but stares through him, refusing to acknowledge it.

“Hey. Earth to omega prime. He give me any fuckin’ soap to work with, or am I supposed to spit-shine myself?” Jesse is leaned half out of the tub, jaw jutting in childish stubbornness. A pink tongue fidgets at the corner of his mouth, wetting his lips, and Jack wants to yank it out of his skull.

“He only lets new omegas use borax,” Jack says evenly, a wan smile crossing his face. It’s not returned.

“Borax? Fuck you. Where’s the soap?” Even as he asks, he catches sight of it beneath Jack’s chair, just behind one big boot. He snaps his fingers and points to it, indicating the lone, plain white bar of soap, and not for the first - or second, or third - time today, Jack considers killing him. “C’mon, Jackie, gimme the soap.”

“You can get it yourself.”

Although he had meant it as a demeaning remark - or perhaps _because_ of that - Jesse immediately does as he’s told, shifting onto his feet and maintaining a squat as he leans precariously over the edge of the bathtub, arm outstretched towards Jack. The man sits as resolutely as ever, intent to keep his legs in the most bothersome spot possible.

Jesse really has to stretch to avoid getting fully out of the tub, and it means Jack is rewarded (or punished) with a view of the omega’s body: shiny-wet, all long limbs and dark hair, his pert ass tightened in an effort to maintain his balance. Water drips from his soaked hair and down his collarbones and chest, making a mess of the floor. A thick arm brushes against Jack’s leg as he reaches beneath him; he looks up to the elder omega and grins, that cursed tongue once again swiping across his chapped lips.

He considers a quick and succinct “Fuck you,” before he decides it’s better not to acknowledge him at all. Face stony and impassive, he simply raises an eyebrow, and Jesse retreats with the soap, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

It’s twelve minutes in before Gabriel comes after him. There’s no knock, no warning. That implies that McCree is allowed privacy, but no - omegas don’t deserve privacy. Who ever thought to give property privacy? Jesse bristles at the intrusion, head swivelling to glare at the man, but makes for a rather unimposing figure there, squatted in rapidly-cooling water with suds around his armpits.

“I told you ten minutes.”

“Didn’t have a watch on me, boss. Sorry.”

Perhaps more than anything, Gabriel is angry at how _good_ Jesse is at this - how he’s managed to needle and prod and annoy him in such a way that only _borders_ being infuriating. How he rolls over and plays dead for him when he’s told, but only on _his_ terms, making the order-giving meaningless, and making damn sure that the only alpha in the room knows he’s being challenged and losing.

It makes him want to break him.

He turns on his heel to face Jack, whose posture quickly stiffens into one of reverent attention. “He properly cleaned yet?”

“Ah... No, sir. Wouldn’t say that. Not to your standards, anyway.”

Unsurprising. Gabriel sighs, running both big hands over his face. Veins at his temples and the back of his neck pulse in the beginnings of a headache, seizing slowly at the back of his skull and creeping inward. When he speaks, his face is still covered, fingers pinching at the pressure points near his temple.

“I don’t know how to paint a clearer picture for you, McCree. You think I’m going to give up on you, say that you’re the one I couldn’t break? That I’ll pass you on towards the highest bidder, and you can just repeat this little gig until you’re too old and ugly for an alpha to want anymore?”

The look on Jesse’s face tells Jack that’s _exactly_ what he’d planned on doing.

“I hate to be the one to tell you, but that’s not how it’s going to happen. I will find a way to break you, sweetheart. You’re all proud of yourself because you think you’re my toughest case? You aren’t. You’re not clever, you’re not innovative. You’re just an annoying little runt. If you don’t care about the punishments I’ve got for you so far, trust me, honey, I’ll find some that _do_ motivate you to do what I say.”

Jesse’s face is inscrutable, eyes twitching between Jack and Gabriel, the soap floating forgotten in the waters. Stupid as he may act, it’s clear he’s anything but; he’s gauging the situation with genuine intuition, trying to figure out the next play, the counterpoint to Gabriel’s _check_.

“And if somehow you’re right, and I can’t find that breaking point? There are much harsher alphas out there. The kind that are banned from the auction-houses and market-places because they’ve got a _reputation_. The kind that make me look like a fucking benevolent god. And if I can’t break you? Those are the buyers that come next.” His hands lower, and he stares at Jesse, who is only just beginning to imagine what men like that might be capable of. “So, you don’t like me? Fine. You wanna take your chances with the next alpha down the line?”

Neither lowers their gaze for a long minute, and then Jesse gives a grunt, turning back to the soap and water, almost eagerly busying himself with properly cleaning himself. The tension dissipates slowly, very slowly, and it’s still a minute before Jack feels safe enough to take in a breath, glancing up at his alpha with a probing look. Gabriel doesn’t notice, instead perching on the edge of the tub to lean in and prod at one hairy knee.

“You cleaned your pussy?”

Jesse scoffs, hunching over to start scrubbing at his legs. “I’m gettin’ there, hoss. ‘Less you wanna do it for me.”

“I probably should.”

The answer visibly surprises Jesse, and he looks disgruntled, immediately beginning to shove him away. “Nah, fuck off. I can clean my own cunt.”

“You can’t even wash your own fucking hair. I’m washing your cunt. You really wanna fight me over this? Because I’ll win, and I’ll make it hurt,” He warns, eyebrow raised in wait for the inevitable challenging quip.

It doesn’t come. Instead, Jesse grunts again, throwing the soap to the other side of the tub in a childish fit of annoyance. “I’m all yours. Clean me up, sir, won’t ya please?” Sarcasm drips from every word, lip curling, but Gabriel ignores it and reaches across him to grab at one hairy leg, hauling it awkwardly out of the water to part Jesse’s thighs. His pubic hair is a little longer than Gabriel usually allows, but it’s manageable; the cleft of his cunt is still visible, the barest hint of dusky pink.

In hindsight, Jesse shouldn’t have expected him to use the washcloth that he tries to give Gabriel - he’s not entirely sure why he tried in the first place. It seems perfectly obvious to Gabriel that he should lean over and wet his fingers in the tepid water and use just that: all natural. Thickly calloused fingers rub dispassionately between the delicate folds of Jesse’s cunt, running the length of his slit, first on one side of his labia, and then the other, pressing into every millimeter of space. Although Jesse glares at the top of Gabe’s head, Gabe doesn’t spare a look at anything but his pussy, closely scrutinizing it. The tip of a finger dips into his hole, rubbing almost too roughly at the rim, but Jesse refuses to make a noise, instead biting the inside of his cheek. The hood of his clitoris is pulled back a moment later, and wet fingers swipe at the over-sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing below the glans to clean him out.

It’s almost enough to arouse Jesse. Almost.

When Gabriel finally sits back on his heels, Jesse breathes a silent sigh of relief, shoving his legs shut and quirking an eyebrow. “We good now after your little inspection, _sir?_ ”

Gabriel hauls himself back to his feet, hands propped against his hips. “Well, you’re no prize specimen, but it’ll do. Rinse off and get dry.”

He doesn’t give Jesse the satisfaction of knowing that other alphas are waiting on him.

\--//--

This, like many other recent situations, is entirely new to him. Omega training is familiar, but Gabriel leads a whole different style of training, with customs and retinues that are lost on him. As such, there is confusion mixed in with his usual resistance, whining and lolling behind as Gabriel leads him forth. He glares at the alpha’s back as he spins the mechanism for a heavy steel door, grunting when he uses his shoulder to shove it open. It doesn’t even occur to him to be afraid.

The room is big, open, and almost completely bare: the walls are stainless steel, the concrete flooring a pearly white that spoke of a recent power-washing, several small grates set towards the middle of the floor. Fluorescent lights were recessed into the ceiling, reflecting off the walls and illuminating everything almost too much for comfort, giving no opportunity to hide. To the far left of the door was a physician’s table, the sides trailing straps and cages of metal; Jesse didn’t want to think about what function those might serve. Just ahead of them, preventing them from reaching the middle of the room, was a card table and a row of shoddy folding chairs. Jesse’s gaze caught upon a number of instruments and toys rested on the table and he frowned, eyes moving listlessly between speculums, titanium rods, and silicone dildos, to the expensive bottle of whiskey sitting beside it all.

“Can I at least get a shot before this, uh, little fun-fest starts?” Jesse drawls, motioning his bound hands toward the bottle, one eyebrow quirked.

Gabriel glances over his shoulder at him, seeming to consider it for a moment before he lets out a short bark of laughter. “See, the thing is, if you’d done what I fucking told you earlier, I would have. Now? Not a chance in hell. Shut up and stay still.”

He isn’t given license to sit, but Jesse does anyway, making himself comfortable on one of the chairs as Gabriel rearranges the table. “So, what is all this, anyway?”

He considers not responding. Pretending he’d never even spoken. Let him know he’s not worth his breath, his brainpower - he’s _beneath_ that. But then he remembers just what Jesse is like, and figures this whole thing is liable to go a hell of a lot smoother if he explained at least the bare minimum.

“It’s a showing. Your owner wants you off his hands, so he’s arranging for a few men to come look at you. Not quite sampling the merchandise, but... Pretty close.” Although Jesse can’t _see_ it, he knows the man is smirking, and it annoys him to no end.

“So best behavior, then?”

“Oh, nobody expects jack shit out of your behavior. I’m not giving the opportunity for you to fuck it up, so don’t worry.” Jesse isn’t sure just what to make of that until Gabriel straightens up with an item in each hand. “Come here. If you make me chase you, I’ll beat your ass into the ground.”

Charming, Jesse thinks, but he heaves himself to his feet, still keeping a bit of distance. Gabriel sinks to his knees, setting something down to grasp the other with both hands. It still doesn’t click with him until he feels an annoying leather strap around his ankle; it’s a spreader bar. When he raises his other foot and shoves every bit of momentum he can into it, he swears it’s a reflex - his foot connects with Gabe’s jaw and sends him sprawling on his ass, grunting as the air is forced out of him.

There’s pride and satisfaction there. For a moment.

And then Gabriel looks up, and he stares into the purveyor of Hell itself. Jesse starts to step backwards, another reflex - this time of fear - that he can’t rationalize: there’s nowhere for him to run. The alpha is up in an instant, crossing the distance with two quick steps and grabbing Jesse by the hair to drag him over to the table. He’s not gentle when he shoves him face-first into it; Jesse feels his lip split beneath his teeth, and the taste of hot copper a moment later.

“You feel big and strong now, bitch boy?” A leather-gloved hand tightens at the back of his neck, and he feels Gabriel’s body edge up behind him, caging him in against the table. Hips touch his ass, Gabriel’s thighs to the backs of his legs. The scratch of his jeans makes him twitch, hyper-aware of his own naked body. “You think one pot-shot is enough to stop the tides? You think you’ve got a chance in hell at beating me? Even on your best day, I’d fucking bury you, McCree. And this is _not_ your best day.” Each word is hissed directly into his ear from between clenched teeth; it’s taking everything Gabriel has to stop himself from slamming Jesse’s face into the table again. And again. And again.

He knows if he started, he wouldn’t stop.

“This was going to be an easy day. Maybe even pleasant. Could’ve been, kid. You fucked that right up. I’m getting you through this showing, and when we’re done, you’re gonna regret that your momma never taught you better, bitch. I’m gonna get you down on your fucking knees and you’re gonna beg me to beat the shit out of you, because that’s gonna be better than every other alternative. Got it?” There’s a genuine thread of malice in his voice, but every word from his mouth is carefully controlled, explicitly modulated to keep himself in power. A controlled detonation, Jesse thinks. That fuse just got lit, and later tonight, it’ll explode, and I’m the one and only target.

Jesse doesn’t say anything at all. He’s kept pinned there for a minute longer to make sure he gets the point before Gabriel yanks him back up. When his vision clears, there’s a smack of blood on the white tabletop from his lip. He spits what’s left in his mouth onto the ground.

This time, Jesse seems to be in control of his reflexes. When the cuff encircles his ankle, he keeps stock still by biting his split lip. When the second cuff is secured, his lip is fleshy and swollen, bleeding a free trickle down his chin. Both feet are affixed at just past shoulder width, and when he tests it, he’s made aware that there’s essentially zero give to the spreader bar.

Gabe grabs the other item from the floor, wiping it idly on his jeans. It takes a second to untangle it with his fingers, spreading them wide to bring it back to its natural shape. Jesse isn’t given enough time to comprehend what it is before it’s being wrapped around his face, and a quickfire panic sets up in his chest, for a moment irrationally sure that he’s about to be strangled. There’s a half-second of struggle before Gabriel shoves two fingers into his mouth, yanking at his bottom teeth to force his mouth open. His thumb and index finger form a vicegrip on his jaw, digging into his sensitive gums as he presses something between his teeth. Metal clinks off his canines, and then it’s rotated, shoving his jaw further apart, and he realizes: it’s a gag. It’s a slim, shiny metal o-ring fitted with leather straps at either end, designed to snugly embrace his face, buckling at the back of his head.

Immediately he is bitter, nose wrinkling in distaste. If he was already in for punishment later tonight, he wished he’d at least tried to bite him before giving in to the gag like a well-trained dog. Now he can’t so much as spit at him; his jaw is permanently wrenched open, tongue lolling against the metal ring and saliva slowly pooling in preparation to drool over his chin. When he tries to bite down, there’s no give.

Fire glints in his dark eyes, his eyebrows pulling together. Whatever Gabriel may have claimed about winning fights, if he were freed right now, he’d fight like a bitch in the center of a dogfight, and he’d be betting every cent he had on _himself_. It’s the humiliation, more than the forced submission, that gets to him. With every outlet for struggle taken from him, he seems obedient and even deferential, two words he’d rather die than see applied to him.

And yet, here he stands: stark nude, thick and hairy thighs forced apart by the spreader bar at his ankles, hands tightly bound just above his ass, and his mouth held lewdly open by a gag. Nothing here speaks to strength, nothing hints at _fight_ \- except the anger still flickering in his eyes.

Gabriel stands back and considers him for a moment, gaze slowly inching up from toes to head. The look begins critical and unimpressed, but somewhere down the line it softens, becomes more of a caress, a look of dark and unadulterated desire. Jesse notices the alpha’s cock begin to fill out the crotch of his pants, and he hates him.

“Almost there,” he mumbles to himself, reaching to pull a cloth from his back pocket. He folds it expertly, without looking, and then approaches the omega again, leaning in to press it over his eyes. It gets knotted just behind the buckle of his gag, kept securely in place over his eyes and obscuring everything but faint figures of light. It wouldn’t matter if he could see - the alphas wouldn’t see the fight in his eyes, and that’s all he gave a damn about.

Now, he painted a pretty little picture.

Jesse stands stock still, even his breathing slowing down in an attempt to make some sense of his surroundings. All he has left is sound, and in a room as big and bare as this..? There’s little to work with.

A crackle of static makes Jesse twitch, head turning in an attempt to face what he recognizes as Gabriel’s walkie-talkie. His heart thuds, and he tries to swallow, a simple act made uncomfortably difficult by the gag. His cunt, lips slightly parted by merit of his stance, begins to moisten in anticipation of what he has been told to expect.

An examination. And everything that might entail.

“Jackie? We’re good to go. You can bring them in.” The voice comes from only a few inches to Jesse’s left, startling him; he hadn’t thought Gabe was so close to him. Hadn’t seen him, felt him. There and then he resolves not to let himself be surprised. That’s what Gabriel wants from this, after all, isn’t it? It’s a showing to get him sold off, sure - but this, like everything else with Gabriel, is a lesson in submission, one more experience to reinforce his inferiority.

Bound, gagged, and blinded, Jesse McCree maintains that he has power. And he will show it.

\--//--

“I remember the last time I saw him, Reyes. He’s like a completely different man. You sure he’s actually an omega, and not some strange beta?” This is Akande’s version of a greeting. Gabriel has learned to take this sort of thing in stride. For Akande, it’s a high compliment, one that has even serious Jack preening a little, his strong chin lifted with pride.

“If you smelled him in heat, you’d never say that. A prettier scent I’ve never smelled. It’s good to see you.” The two clasp hands, pulling in to touch their chests together before they separate again.

The other two offer little in way of greeting. Mako grunts and inclines his head, but refuses to shake hands. By now, Gabriel knows better than to expect it. Maximilien gives a haughty smile and a half-mocking bow, murmuring something beneath his breath that Gabriel doesn’t bother responding to. He doesn’t expect either of them to have interest in McCree - he invited them here out of courtesy and obligation only. Akande is only negligibly more likely to find anything worthwhile in the runt, but he likes Akande better than the other two, anyway. Slightly behind them stands Jack, hands neatly clasped behind his back. He meets Gabriel’s eyes and gives a faint smile, inclining his head in their own, more intimate, version of hello.

Gabriel offers them all a glass of whiskey before he motions them to sit down; Jack takes a glass as well, but remains standing by his side, at attention and waiting for orders.

Only once they have begun to sip at their liquor do they bother letting their eyes fall to McCree. He’s a pretty picture, his broad body still sporting well-defined musculature, with dark hair dusting across his chest and stomach. Small nipples are pebbled from exposure, sitting at the peak of heavily-muscled pectorals; his waist narrows perceptibly as it approaches his hips, and none in the room can stop themselves from appreciating the divot of muscle where waist meets hipbone. Dark pubic hair parts along with his labia, giving only the barest of peeks to his cunt, although the first trickle of juices have begun to inch their way down his inner thigh.

A low whistle echoes through the room, bouncing off the metal walls until Jesse is thoroughly disoriented. He doesn’t so much as twitch. He keeps his shoulders strong and his chin high, measuring and counting every single breath even as his ears strain for more to work with.

Maximilien finishes the whistle, slowly and daintily clapping his hands in what might be mockery. “A handsome toy, to be sure. I don’t think anyone could deny that.” A pregnant pause overtakes the room as he sips at his drink, thumb rubbing at the rim of the glass as he takes Jesse in. “He’s clean, I assume?”

“No diseases. No deformities. Nothing wrong with him, from what my medic and I could tell.” Unknown to Jesse, Gabriel gestures to Jack, who steps forward to hand each man a small, neat stack of papers, each one labelled ‘MCCREE, JESSE. OMEGA.’ Maximilien gives them a cursory glance, while Akande pages through them with genuine interest. Mako sets his down without looking at them.

“And you’d allow me to confirm that?”

Internally, Gabriel sighs. Maximilien has no interest in him, he knows that. For him, this is nothing but a fun diversion, something to do for the afternoon. He knows Gabriel won’t turn him down, and he doesn’t. Gabe motions to the omega, inclining his head. “All yours.”

A wan smile crosses Maximilien’s face and he downs the rest of his drink, standing and handing the empty glass to Gabriel. Gabe’s lip curls in distaste, and he hands it off to Jack, briefly considering the merits of smashing it against the back of Max’s head. Instead he steps aside, allowing unfettered access to McCree. After a moment, Akande stands as well, more closely scrutinizing Jesse’s bared skin.

A sallow fingertip touches at the stubble on Jesse’s jaw, tracing a line from ear to chin. Jesse flinches, breath coming hard and hot through the ring between his teeth, every hair on his body standing on end. He wants to know who is daring to touch him. He wants to rip off his finger - the same finger that inches up to prod at his split lip, encouraging another trickle of blood.

“Was someone naughty today?” Maximilien asks softly, crooning the words only a few inches from Jesse’s face. He wants to hiss at him; instead he drools blood. “What’s the story here, Reyes?”

“He’s still in training. Just a small punishment,” Gabriel says dryly, catching Jack’s questioning look but waving it off. “Of course, I wouldn’t accept any payments until he’s fully broken in. We’re well on our way there.”

You fucking wish, Jesse snarls internally, jaw clenching around his gag.

Maximilien runs his finger along his lip, rubbing and probing at the wound there before delving inside, hooking it against his cheek to drag it back, exposing a line of teeth. Everyone can see his fat pink tongue as it writhes in the confines of his mouth, twitching and wriggling against his teeth. Max touches one canine, then a premolar, and then the next, and the next, until his finger is near the back of his throat, idly caressing the soft flesh of his mouth. Jesse gags at the near-intrusion, tongue uselessly pressing against it.

Seemingly unimpressed, Max withdraws his finger; a thick line of spit stretches between it and Jesse’s mouth, which he wipes against Jesse’s cheek, leaving it shiny and wet. To the side, Akande watches almost too closely, licking at his own lips. Eagle-eyed Jack notices the tell-tale bulge of his trousers and smirks, content to watch the show unfold.

“He’s had fillings. Teeth replaced.”

“It says that in the medical report, Maximilien.”

A soft ‘ _hmph_ ’ comes near Jesse’s right ear. A moment later a hand touches the back of his head, fingers spreading and probing at his skull. If not for the circumstances, the touch would have been pleasant; as it is, it makes his skin crawl. They trail down the back of his neck, carefully prodding at the nobs of his vertebrae, making the slow journey down his spine. Max is between his shoulder blades when Jesse gets a full-body twitch that he can’t stop, muscles tightening and shuddering. Behind him, Maximilien huffs a soft laugh, moving on to the next vertebra. When he nears the middle of his back, warmth rises from Jesse’s gut to his skin, flushing his chest and face. Mako glances down long enough to notice a thick string of pussy juice drip to the floor.

“His spine is well-aligned,” Max remarks, completing the journey by a heavier stroke from neck to lower back, like petting a dog.

Gabriel wants to snap his spine. He smiles graciously. “He’s well worth the money, like I said.”

“We’ll see,” Max says glibly, side-stepping to get in front of Jesse once again. “What’s his name, again?”

“It can be anything you want. For now, it’s Jesse.”

A hand reaches out, two fingers pinching cruelly at a nipple. Jesse, not expecting it, nearly yelps, fire blooming in his chest. Max pulls the nipple away from his body, dragging the skin painfully, before he lets go. The other nipple gets kinder treatment, the pad of one thumb rubbing softly but insistently at the tip, only barely making contact. Jesse’s breath comes harder, but he doesn’t otherwise betray anything; he’s proud of himself, counting every small victory.

Only now does Akande reach forth, one huge hand resting heavily on Jesse’s shoulder, squeezing and massaging the muscle in admiration and appreciation. He lets his hand follow the line of his arm, feeling out biceps and triceps, thumb and forefinger digging at each muscle to feel its definition. When he reaches the inside of his elbow, he strokes more gently, the back of his thumb stroking down the hairy forearm to his wrist. The omega is unabashedly masculine, not forced to shave himself or slim down to small proportions like so many others. It makes Jesse all the more attractive to him, his mouth watering at the prospect of having such a masculine omega beneath him.

Jesse is left wondering if this is the same man as the one who had probed his mouth - two sets of hands? More? His busted lip curls, but he stays otherwise still. Even as Maximilien reaches down to cup his pert ass, squeezing one fat asscheek, he remains immobile. One cheek, and then the other, massaging and rubbing in almost sensual motions. Behind him, Maximilien takes a knee, leaning in to huff a smell of Jesse’s musk, diluted now by soap and water. Apparently unsatisfied, he digs his fingers in to pull his ass open and then leans in, careful not to let his face make contact with him; here, between asshole and pussy, his scent is strongest, almost cloying in its potency. Jesse’s powerful thighs shudder at the intrusion, toes curling against the concrete as he tries to stop himself from leaning forward and _presenting_ to the stranger.

No, he won’t do that. Not in his darkest nightmares.

On his front, a huge hand moves from his shoulder slowly down his belly, palm flat as it caresses as much skin as possible. This is two men, then, Jesse determines, heart fluttering and spasming in his throat. Unbidden, a line of drool spills from his mouth. The hand stops at his hip, gently squeezing, before a forefinger traces a path down the line of his groin, inching closer to his cunt by way of inner thigh.

“You’ve ruined his scent,” Max comments, surging back to his feet; Jesse only recognizes it because his voice comes closer to his ear again.

“I can still smell him from here, Maximilien,” Gabriel points out from his spot near the table. Jack is stood closer than before, forearm brushing against Gabe’s side, slowly nursing at his glass of whiskey. “But if you prefer them unbathed, I’ll remember that for next time.”

A sharp glare comes in response to the barb, but Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead he steps forward, pressing the front of his immaculate suit against the omega, an arm wrapping around his waist to force them firmly together. Akande glances at them, considering whether to continue his own inspection before deciding it’s not worth trying to vie for attention. He’ll get his examination, in time. He retreats to his seat beside Mako - who is making quick work of the rest of the bottle of whiskey - to watch the show that Maximilien will no doubt provide.

Everyone can tell that Jesse is only narrowly holding himself together now, overwhelmed either by the pleasure or fear of the situation. His breath comes fast and shallow, audible now, belly moving minutely with each intake of breath. His feet squirm in their cuffs, shuffling slightly as though in attempt to escape Max’s grip on him. It isn’t productive; Max pulls him tighter, until he can feel a clothed erection rubbing against his ass. A pointed chin settles against his neck, the pressure and presence of him strangling Jesse for a moment.

“You’re not the prettiest omega I’ve seen, but you’d still make a handsome prize, wouldn’t you? Someone I could keep hobbled in my den, fit to service my guests. I’d love to see what you’re like in heat, McCree. I bet you would beg for my knot, sight unseen. You’d beg me to breed you fat with pups, wouldn’t you? It’d be cute to watch, desperate little slut writhing on my floor, humping your own hands.” Each word comes like that of a snake, curling into Jesse’s ear only to coil down in his gut. His cunt clenches in anticipation of the picture Maximilien has painted for him, a tiny, choked whimper escaping his mouth.

Max chuckles, gently kissing his earlobe as his hand eases its way down his belly, palm grinding against his pubic bone. If Jesse could have parted his legs further, he would have. “I wouldn’t give it to you, of course. An omega like you doesn’t deserve me. Maybe once in a while I’d allow you to service me, let you choke on my knot until you’re vomiting my cum. And you’d cry in thanks for that, wouldn’t you, pet? Oh, I’m sure you would. You’re near crying right now, aren’t you, baby bitch?” Two fingers touch the very top of his slit, gently stroking, not nearly enough - Jesse grinds up towards the pressure, desperate for more and surprisingly unashamed. “Your pussy is already dripping. I can smell it.”

Jesse decides, then and there, whatever pleasure he is handed is not worth moving away from. If they’re going to give to him, he won’t count it as a torture. This is a gift.

Max locks eyes with Gabriel across the room, a slow, sly smile curving his lips; his fingers continue to move and stroke, touching the length of his pussy lips but refusing to delve between them. “You think you’re too good for Reyes as an alpha, don’t you? You’re right. You’re a lowly bitch, that’s true, but him? You deserve so much better than anything he could offer you. You’ve seen the omegas he takes. I’d never dream of touching them. I have standards. You could fit those standards, McCree, if you tried. Would you like that? Being one of my little prizes? I could train you up better than Reyes ever dreamed of, until you’re-”

There was a tension in Gabriel’s posture, his nostrils flaring and pupils dilating as he took in the crooned insults, but Maximilien had taken it in stride, assuming himself untouchable, impervious. Surely the alpha wouldn’t dream of touching him.

He did dream.

Two yards between them shrank to nothing in an instant, Gabriel quickly sidestepping to grab Maximilien by the back of the neck, two thick fingers pinching at the nerves there. Caught off guard, Max yelps, trying to twist to face him, hands falling from Jesse’s body. He is half limp when Gabriel drags him back, Max ineffectually scrabbling at Gabriel’s arms. Jack is there a moment later, ready to step in to help, but lingering just back until the order was given. Another pinch, a twist of fingers as he plucks at delicate nerves, brings Maximilien to his knees.

The man looks up at him in surprise and confusion, eyebrows knitted together in bafflement that someone - Reyes, of all people - is laying hands upon him. “What are you-”

A steel-toed boot is driven into Maximilien’s groin with just enough pressure to make the man double over, groaning and whining bitchily. “Shut the fuck up. You come here under my fucking invitation and insult my merchandise, my own mate, and then _me_ , and think you’re above reproach? Maybe nobody else has the balls to show you your place, Max, but I fucking do.” As he speaks, he’s dragging and maneuvering Maximilien across the floor, shoving him until he’s sat on his ass in front of Jesse.

For his part, Jesse is confused and half-terrified, part of him convinced that Reyes is about to slit the man’s throat. He isn’t sure he’d mind. Electricity tingles over his skin, his cunt swollen and puffy from arousal, and he curses the fact that the man had started shit-talking before actually _touching_ him.

“Stay on the floor, where you belong,” Gabriel snaps, and, still winded, Maximilien obeys. From their seats, Mako and Akande watch with amusement and surprise, a smile curling Akande’s lips.

A hand touches Jesse’s flank, and his body jerks, heart thumping at triple speed in his chest. This one, at least, he recognizes as Gabriel’s, all calluses and rough skin. “Do you remember that punishment I promised you earlier?” Silence between them; Jesse slowly nods, unwilling to humiliate himself with a grunted affirmation. “Do what I say now, and I’ll be willing to let that go. No punishment, if you do what I tell you to. Okay?” His voice is a soft purr, a tone that Jesse is unfamiliar with. It scares him, gives some primal reaction in the back of his head that says to run, to fear, to obey. He nods again.

“Good boy. I want you to piss on him, omega.”

Whatever tension had been created is broken when Mako begins to laugh, a low rumbling from deep in his belly. Akande joins him a moment later, and Maximilien looks up from his position on the floor, his expression a combination of plea and indignation. “What? You’re kidding me, Reyes, I’m not-”

Words die on his tongue as Gabriel points down at him with one finger, a gesture somehow more threatening than the vice grip he’d had on his neck. Properly silenced, Gabriel returns his attentions to Jesse. “Piss on him, boy. That’s all. That’s all it takes for an easy night.”

Gears turn rapidly in his head, churning in an attempt to make sense of the insanity that has spilled across the room in a matter of seconds. He’s an instrument of revenge, that’s all he is. That’s all. An unprecedented level of humiliation for an alpha who, admittedly, had insulted him and given nothing in return..? Yeah. Yeah, Jesse is pretty sure he can do this and sleep just fine at night.

Still, it takes a minute for him to convince his body to work with his mind. There’s a moment before he can isolate the feeling of his bladder, the sensation of it being filled, and convinces himself it’s straining, that he needs to go, he doesn’t have any choice but to empty himself _now_. It starts as the barest trickle, only a second of hot piss that goes down his inner thigh, going all the way down to his ankle. Gabriel takes the opportunity to grab Maximilien by the back of the head, shoving him forward until his face is nestled between Jesse’s thighs, wedged there by a combination of Gabe’s hand and Jesse’s legs, which obligingly tighten as much as they can.

Another trickle, which splashes across Max’s hair, wetting it down as it falls down his cheeks; the smell is acrid, and makes the man protest again, struggling against Gabriel’s grip. That is enough encouragement for a steady stream from Jesse. Steaming-hot piss sprays from his cunt, coating both himself and Maximilien, who sobs in anger. When it slows to a dribble, tiny beads of pee clinging to his lips, Gabriel adjusts his hold on him, forcing Max to angle his head up towards his pussy, and then pinches the corner of his jaw, forcing his mouth to open.

“Now lick him clean, Maximilien,” Gabriel says quietly, sneering as several drops of piss land between his opened lips. There’s a moment of hesitation, and Gabriel interestedly notes what might be tears falling from his eyes, before Max does as he’s told, small tongue lapping at Jesse’s cunt lips. After two swipes, he tries to pull away, face turning aside.

“Ah-ah. That’s not clean, is it? You need to really get in there to make sure of it. Lick until you don’t taste piss anymore. You have to leave my omegas in good condition, Max.”

This is going to carry heavy repercussions later on, Jack thinks impartially, but for now, he finds himself thoroughly enjoying the show, his own pussy growing wet. Max is clumsy and unused to this, and it shows in how his tongue struggles to press between the folds of Jesse’s pussy. He winces at the taste of piss there, having to draw in a deep breath before he gets back to work, slowly and reluctantly dragging his tongue down the length of him.

Jesse lowers his hips as much as he’s able to shove his cunt against Max’s face, grinding against his face and tongue. When Max’s tongue makes contact with his fat clitoris, he humps, hips rapidly moving in an attempt to make Maximilien service him. Max struggles against it, instead trying to efficiently clean him, swiping his tongue over every inch of his swollen labia.

Gabriel keeps him there a minute longer than necessary, smug, before he releases him and steps back, allowing Maximilien to hurry to his feet, wiping at his filthy face. He’s forced to acknowledge Akande and Mako, who are both sporting amused expressions; Jack, too, has a faint smile, although he tries to suppress it.

“You’ll regret this, Reyes. I hope you realize that. You’ll fucking regret this.”

“Maybe. But you’ll spend the rest of your life remembering this, won’t you, Max? And Jesse here will certainly be remembering the time he pissed on the great Maximilien’s face.”

For the first time since being gagged, Jesse makes a sound. Everyone in the room recognizes it as a laugh.


End file.
